“Yes, I remember them.” He sounds about as thrilled as if I’d offered him a hairbrush.
“Our mother wished that her sons would be sailors.” I send a silent prayer to Mum to forgive me for the ridiculous lies I’m telling with her good name. Something tells me, though, she’s having a good chuckle up there on her cloud.
Jamie coughs. “Where are you going with this?” he asks in Cantonese through his teeth, pasting on a smile.
“I’ll tell you when I get there,” I reply, before returning to English. “She wished to offer a sacrifice to the sea goddess Tin Hau as a thank-you for the plentiful, er, mackerel harvest that kept her village back in China from starving one summer. So she dedicated her sons to the sea.”
A sigh blows from Jamie’s nostrils, but he props up his expression and nods, his face as earnest as a starched collar.
“Turns out, they have too much of their father in them. Olly has excellent reflexes and would make a good juggler. Wink is naturally small and agile, and with proper training, he could learn to walk the rope, maybe even better than me. You might not have Flying Twins, but what about a Flying Family?”
“But I thought you buried your father alone?”
Belatedly, I remember that Jamie said I took care of Ba by myself. “Er, I was alone. The lads followed after Jamie . . .” My mind stops spinning, like a pinwheel in a fickle breeze, and Jamie picks up the slack.
“After I found work for them with Atlantic Steam,” Jamie smoothly cuts in, “I sent Valora a letter that she should send them along. After all, the work was honest, and they’d be fed.”
Mr. Stewart’s eyes shift to starboard as he digests our concoction. “Well, what about your mother’s wishes?”
“Ah, well, she has me, doesn’t she?” Jamie thumps his chest and points to the ceiling, as if acknowledging Mum up in heaven.
“Jamie’s the oldest born, which means he’s the most important one, and he loves the queasy seasies.” I slap him on the shoulder a little too hard, forgetting about his injury until he makes a strangled sound.
He absorbs my blow with a good-natured smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sure do.”
Suddenly, the ship seems to grip as if someone stepped on the brakes, and the room leans to port, tossing Crawford onto the bed.
Mr. Stewart raises his eyebrows at the valet. “At least you weren’t carrying the champagne.”
Crawford scrambles to his feet again. “Yes, sir.”
The bed squeaks as Mr. Stewart shifts around. “Well . . . this Wink and Olly. They’re not acrobats yet. At this point, they’d simply be extra mouths to feed.”
“Your point is taken. But as apprentice acrobats, they’ll work for free for the first six months to give everyone a chance to test things out.” Thanks to our performance, we have enough money to hold us at least a year if we’re frugal, with no rent or board to pay. “If, in the end, you are not satisfied, you will not have lost anything.”
“Except the trouble of getting you into the country.”
“You would’ve done it for the two of us.” I glance at Jamie. “What’s another name or two on the application?”
“Jamie is a more certain bet.”
I snort. “I’m afraid my brother wants to see the stars, not be one of them.”
Mr. Stewart rises, and we stand as well. He gazes at his bowler, now hung on the wall beside us, as if it were a crystal ball. “Ah, this is . . . quite irregular.”
Crawford creeps next to him and murmurs something into his ear. Is he revealing that I knew his nickname? Maybe he put two and two together and figured out that I was the imposter, Mrs. Sloane.
I squeeze my fists, feeling something slipping away. The floors seem to thrum harder under my feet, a sensation that not even the thick rugs, nor our elevation, could dampen. Life, like this ship, continues to move forward. This tiny moment, like all the other moments happening on this ship, will transform, like ocean spray, into rivulets bearing us in new directions. But if I can keep my feet planted in this moment for a little longer, maybe it’ll take me where I want to go.
Jamie nudges me with his elbow, and I follow his eyes down to his hand. He pincers his forefinger and thumb, and then makes a tiny plucking motion, as if picking a flower. A dandelion.
He glances at me, a smile lurking in his eyes. His chest lifts as he breathes. Then together, we blow a puff of air, as light as a sigh, but loud enough for the stars to hear.
Mr. Stewart wipes his palms on his trousers, and his jowls lift as he smiles. “Welcome to the Ringling Brothers Circus.” He extends a hand to me, and Mum laughs sweetly in my ear.
* * *
We set a time for our next meeting, and then Crawford, who I can’t help thinking played a role in Stewart’s decision, leads us back to the lifts.
“That was a strange swell,” says Jamie, making polite conversation. “Now it feels like we’re barely moving.”
“I’ll be glad of a slower pace,” Crawford returns. “Best to tiptoe around giants is what I think, and the ocean’s the biggest giant I know.”
I think back to when I first saw him. Mrs. Sloane offered a mild defense of his fear of the ocean. Is that why the man helped us? But if that’s the reason, then he must know that I am Mrs. Sloane.
Just past the felted doors, April’s room again catches my eye. As Crawford and Jamie move toward the lifts, on impulse, I cross to her door and knock. To my surprise, the door opens right away. April’s mother, wearing her mink, blinks at me. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Er, yes,” I agree. “Good evening, Mrs. Hart. I don’t mean to bother you.”
Jamie hurries over. “What are you doing?” he hisses.
April’s face appears behind her mother’s. “Valora! And Jamie, I presume?”
“Um, how do you do?” Jamie says cautiously.
April grabs my hand. Unlike her mum, she looks like she’s ready to turn in for the night, with an embroidered robe in chocolate brown over matching silk pajamas. “Valora, I looked everywhere for you. Do you have a moment?”
“Well, yes, but we’re really not supposed to be on this level.” I glance back at Crawford, who has glided up behind us.
“For heaven’s sake. Steward, officer, whoever you are, I will take personal responsibility for any rabble-rousing Miss Luck might do.”
Crawford angles his head deferentially. If he wondered if I was a rabble-rouser before, now it’s been confirmed.
Jamie frowns at me. “Don’t take too long.” Then he and Crawford return to the lifts.